Archie Greene and the Magician's Secret

by D D Everest

  ‘Hey what’s going on?’ Archie recognised Pink’s voice. She must have heard the commotion from Quill’s.

  The dark figure threw Archie to the ground and melted into the shadows.

  Bramble ran to Archie’s side. ‘You all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, but let’s get out of here before he comes back.’

  *

  ‘So who attacked you?’ Thistle asked when they were safely back in Houndstooth Road.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Archie said, shaking his head. ‘It all happened so fast.’ The three cousins were sitting around the kitchen table. The house was dark except for a couple of candles. Loretta had already gone to bed. None of the children noticed that the serving hatch to the next room was slightly ajar.

  ‘Whoever it was he was after the book,’ continued Archie.

  ‘But which book?’ asked Bramble. ‘Your book or the almanac?’

  ‘Good question. I thought it was the almanac, but now I’m wondering.’

  ‘But who would want your book?’ said Thistle.

  ‘Greaders,’ growled a low voice that made them all jump. Woodbine’s head appeared through the serving hatch. ‘Greaders,’ he said again, darkly. ‘That’s who.’

  Woodbine appeared at the kitchen door. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs.

  ‘Had a scare, then, young ’un?’ he said to Archie.

  Archie nodded. Woodbine was a reassuring presence. His uncle scratched his stubbly chin. ‘Something’s not right,’ he muttered. ‘Is Geoffrey Screech still missing?’

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Archie. ‘Marjorie is really worried about him. She’s started sleeping in the bookshop.’

  Woodbine shook his head thoughtfully. ‘Worried about the Greaders, I expect. Your aunt Loretta hasn’t slept properly since she heard about that boy being attacked. Probably best if we don’t mention what happened tonight. Keep it between ourselves for now. It’ll be Greaders that’s behind it, all right. Trouble is, you can’t tell whose working with them.’

  Woodbine rubbed his chin again. ‘Hmmmm,’ he growled. ‘One thing’s certain, that book isn’t safe where it is.’

  22

  A Midnight Excursion

  Later, as the two boys were settling down for the night, Archie’s mind was still racing. Woodbine had said his attacker must be a Greader, but Archie wondered how the man had known about the book. Perhaps he had overheard Bramble and him talking in Quill’s. It was a warning that they should be more careful.

  Woodbine had said something wasn’t quite right. Perhaps he suspected someone inside the museum? Archie thought about what the almanac had said about Old Zeb. If the old bookbinder was working for the Greaders then none of the books at the bookshop were safe. The more Archie thought about his book sitting in a box in plain sight, the more worried he felt.

  The book must be from the same person who had sent the riddle, he reasoned. Horace Catchpole had said he was a magician. But why would a magician have sent the book to him? How did he even know Archie would be born in four hundred years’ time? What was special about him anyway? And then he had a sudden thought. What if the magician had sent him the book because only a book whisperer could protect it?

  ‘Psssst, Thistle,’ he hissed. ‘Wake up. I’ve got to get my book.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Thistle’s groggy voice. ‘First thing in the morning.’

  ‘No,’ whispered Archie. ‘I have to get it now.’

  Thistle sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. ‘You mean right now?’

  Archie nodded. Thistle grinned. ‘A midnight raid on the Aisle of White!’ he whispered. ‘Excellent. Shall we wake Bram?’

  ‘No,’ said Archie. ‘She’s been working late at the museum. She needs some rest. Besides, we can handle this on our own.’

  *

  It was just after midnight when Archie and Thistle let themselves out of 32 Houndstooth Road. The streets of Oxford were transformed at night. The ancient sandstone buildings appeared in sepia tones like an old-fashioned photograph. Mysterious puddles of darkness lurked at every turn. The two boys cautiously made their way through the narrow cobbled lanes.

  When they arrived at the bookshop it was in darkness. A single light on in Quill’s was the only illumination in the small courtyard.

  ‘How are we going to get in?’ hissed Thistle.

  ‘I’ve got a key,’ Archie replied, producing it from his pocket. He fumbled with the lock trying to find the keyhole.

  ‘You know what we’re doing is against the Lore, don’t you?’ said Thistle.

  ‘Yes,’ said Archie. He was all too aware of it. ‘But I’ve got to trust my instincts on this one.’

  An owl hooted nearby.

  ‘Hurry up!’ urged Thistle. ‘Someone will see us.’

  Archie turned the key and pushed the door open. The bell clanged loudly, making both of them jump.

  ‘Geoffrey, is that you?’ They heard Marjorie mumbling in her sleep.

  ‘Shhhh,’ whispered Archie. ‘I forgot about Marjorie. She’s started sleeping in an armchair at the back of the shop.’

  They stood still, waiting to see whether she would wake up, and were relieved when they heard her resume snoring soundly.

  Very gently, Archie closed the door behind them, leaving it on the latch so they could make a quick getaway if needed. He turned off his torch so that he wouldn’t disturb Marjorie.

  The bookshop was eerie in the dark. The aisles between the bookcases were like dark alleyways where anything or anyone could be lurking. All Archie had to do was locate the book in the cardboard box, which would only take a second. But first he had to find it.

  ‘You stay here and keep an eye out,’ he whispered to Thistle, ‘I’ll get the book.’

  Archie crept forward in the pitch dark, his hand in front of him to feel his way. Inch by inch he guided himself towards the back of the shop. He was about half way when he heard a whispered voice.

  ‘Who’s there?’ it asked urgently from behind the curtain. Archie recognised the voice of The Little Book of Blessings.

  ‘It’s me,’ he whispered. ‘Archie.’

  ‘Hello Archie. I’m glad it’s you.’ The voice sounded relieved.

  ‘I haven’t heard any of the other books whisper for days now,’ said Archie, keeping his voice low so that Thistle wouldn’t hear. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Something is stealing our magic, and whatever it is is getting stronger,’ she said. ‘The other books are too scared to speak any more.’ The little book sounded frightened.

  ‘Anyway, why are you sneaking around in the middle of the night? Have you come to help us?’

  ‘Er … it’s a long story,’ said Archie. ‘I’ve come to collect a book I left here.’

  ‘That book!’ said The Little Book of Blessings. ‘Yes, you must take it away. It isn’t safe for any magical books to be here.’

  Archie suddenly felt very uneasy. The bookshop seemed full of menace now. The Little Book of Blessings was silent.

  Archie steeled himself and moved forward. His hand touched the cardboard box. He flicked on his torch, directing its beam down so that it wouldn’t wake Marjorie, and rummaged through the box until he found what he was looking for. His fingers closed on the book and he felt a wave of relief.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ he whispered, turning off the torch.

  ‘Good. Now let’s get out of here,’ Thistle whispered back. ‘I think there’s someone out there watching us.’

  Archie gazed around the bookshop at the darkness. He could hear Marjorie snoring lightly. He felt like something was watching him. He spoke again to The Little Book of Blessings, his voice urgent.

  ‘Do you want me to take you, too?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Go now! Quickly! Before it is too late!’

  Archie hesitated for another second. ‘Thanks for the warning,’ he whispered into the darkness.

  ‘Bless you, Archie Greene. May you find the path that is meant for you.’


  Thistle was peering anxiously out into the courtyard towards Quill’s. ‘Come on,’ he whispered and they slipped out into the night.

  *

  When they got back to 32 Houndstooth Road they couldn’t resist waking Bramble to tell her what they had done.

  ‘Well you should have included me,’ she said, crossly. ‘I don’t see why you should have all the fun.’

  ‘Shhhh, keep your voice down, Bram,’ hissed Thistle. ‘You’ll wake Mum and Dad.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ said Archie. ‘I thought you needed the rest after all the research you’ve been doing.’

  Archie put the book on the bed. It looked even more mysterious in the torchlight.

  ‘You were right, Archie,’ said Bramble, inspecting the silver clasp. ‘It is the same symbol as on the scroll. By the look of that scorch mark I’d say it had been in a fire at some point, too. That could mean it was in the Great Library of Alexandria.’

  ‘So it could be good or it could be evil?’ said Thistle.

  ‘Yes,’ mused Bramble, ‘judging by the writing on the cover it’s in Enochian Script, the language of angels.’

  ‘And angels are good, right?’ said Thistle.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Bramble, relaxing a bit. ‘I suppose so. It’s weird that you could understand it, though, Archie.’

  Archie felt uncomfortable. ‘That was a fluke,’ he said. ‘I mean, how could I possibly understand a magic language that I’ve never seen before? Besides, I tried to read this book when I first got it and couldn’t, so why was I able to read the riddle?’

  ‘Dunno,’ said Thistle. ‘And it’s not as if the book can tell us.’

  Archie felt the blood drain from his face. Thistle was right – ordinarily, a book couldn’t speak, even a magic book – unless you were a book whisperer! Archie had a horrible sinking feeling.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Thistle. ‘How do you open this wretched clasp?’ he asked, in frustration.

  ‘You turn it like a dial,’ said Archie, without thinking.

  ‘Well, I’ve tried that,’ said Thistle. ‘There must be some special knack to it.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Archie. ‘I just turned it until it clicked open.’

  ‘Well, be my guest,’ said Thistle, handing him the book.

  Archie turned the clasp as he had done the first time he’d opened it. A picture of a bolt of lightning appeared in the tiny window, but it didn’t open. He tried again. This time an icon of a smiling skull appeared but still it wouldn’t budge. He turned the clasp a third time and the crystal ball appeared. Archie now knew that these symbolised the different types of magic.

  ‘That’s it,’ he declared, tugging at the clasp, but it remained locked tight. ‘Well, that’s really strange,’ he said, his voice rising in frustration. ‘It opened before.’

  They heard footsteps on the landing.

  ‘Uh, oh,’ said Thistle. ‘Quick, hide the book!’

  Archie slipped it under the pillow just in time. The door opened and the light came on.

  ‘What on earth are you doing awake at this time?’ asked Loretta. ‘Isn’t it bad enough that we’re under attack from Greaders, without you three staying up half the night?’

  She suddenly burst into tears. Woodbine appeared at her side and laid a reassuring hand on her arm.

  ‘It’s all right Loretta,’ he said. ‘The museum elders won’t let the Greaders get their hands on any magical books.’

  ‘But what about that poor boy, Peter Quiggley?’ wailed Loretta. ‘Whatever is it coming to when the apprentices aren’t safe to go about their business.’

  Archie wondered whether his uncle had told Loretta about him being attacked outside Quill’s. But Woodbine drew his finger across his mouth to indicate his lips remained sealed. Loretta wiped her eyes.

  ‘Yes, well, I’m sure you’re right,’ she sniffed. ‘But it’s so unsettling. I mean if the Greaders were to get hold of one of the Terrible Tomes … it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  She wiped her eyes again. Then regaining some composure she turned to the children.

  ‘You three. Bed. Now!’

  23

  Break-in News

  The next morning Archie and Bramble walked into Oxford as usual. They had just turned into the narrow lanes that led to the Aisle of White when a police car passed them.

  ‘I’ll meet you later at Quill’s,’ Archie began when they reached the enclosed courtyard, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of the siren. Bramble was looking at the ground.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said.

  ‘Looks like broken glass,’ Archie replied.

  ‘Hmmmm,’ agreed Bramble, gazing over his shoulder. ‘And that’s not all. Look!’

  ‘Oh no!’ gasped Archie. ‘There’s been a break-in at the Aisle of White!’

  The area immediately outside the bookshop was cordoned off with yellow fluorescent tape. The shop window had been shattered.

  Bramble flashed a look at Archie. ‘You and Thistle got here just in time,’ she gasped. Archie nodded numbly.

  They crunched their way across the broken glass and peered through the open doorway into the bookshop. Several of the bookcases had been knocked flat and books were strewn all over the floor, their spines broken. The shop sign was lying on the ground among the debris.

  A low sobbing sound was coming from the far end of the shop. The two cousins picked their way through the wreckage to the curtain and peeked through.

  Marjorie sat in an armchair with her head in her hands. Her face was puffy and her tears had left her eyes red. Her hair, never her tidiest feature, was sticking up in thick clumps. She would have been a comical sight under other circumstances, but Archie and Bramble were too kind to laugh.

  Old Zeb was trying to comfort her. Archie was relieved to see that the bookcase with The Little Book of Blessings and the other magic books was still standing.

  ‘Marjorie, dear, you’ve had a terrible fright,’ soothed Old Zeb. ‘Have a cup of tea, you’ll feel better.’

  ‘Th … th … thank you!’ She sobbed, her hands rattling the cup in the saucer and spilling most of the tea. ‘My p … p … poor nerves! I really don’t think I can take any more.’

  At that moment she caught sight of the children through the curtain. ‘It’s them! It’s the Greaders come back to finish me off!’ she wailed.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Archie. ‘We didn’t mean to scare you. We saw the shop and came to see if you were all right.’

  Old Zeb put his hand on Marjorie’s arm. ‘There, there, my dear,’ he said kindly. ‘Don’t get yourself all worked up again. You’re safe now.’

  ‘What happened?’ Bramble asked.

  Old Zeb answered. ‘Marjorie was asleep in the chair when someone broke in. They crept back here and tied her up while she slept.’

  Marjorie wiped her nose with a handkerchief. ‘I woke up and there he was!’ she howled.

  ‘Who?’ Bramble and Archie asked at the same time.

  ‘Him!’ wailed Marjorie. ‘The Greader!’

  ‘Did you get a good look at him?’ Bramble asked.

  Marjorie shook her head. ‘No, it was dark and he was wearing a cloak! He kept asking about a book,’ she sobbed, plaintively. ‘Where was the special book? Where was the book that Mr Screech was expecting?’

  Bramble and Archie exchanged looks as she continued. ‘It’s a good job the almanac was in the mending workshop, because the Greader couldn’t find it. The next thing I knew Dr Rusp was there. Heaven knows he’s not my favourite man but I have never been so pleased to see him!’

  ‘Rusp was passing the shop and saw the broken window,’ explained Old Zeb. ‘He must have scared the Greaders off. Just as well he did.’

  ‘What time was this?’ asked Bramble.

  ‘Oh, it must have been just after one,’ said Marjorie. ‘I heard the old grandfather clock strike the hour.’

  ‘Odd time to be walking the streets,’ suggested Bramble.

 
‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ Old Zeb agreed. ‘But he’s an odd fellow, Rusp.’

  ‘Did the Greaders take anything?’ Archie asked.

  ‘Nothing as far as we can tell,’ said Old Zeb. ‘Of course it will take days to clear up the mess!’ Marjorie started to howl again.

  ‘Was anything taken from the workshop?’ Bramble asked.

  Old Zeb smiled. ‘No. People know not to go down to the workshop at night. We have some special security down there!’

  Archie thought of the beast behind the blue door and gave an involuntary shiver. The old man’s eyes twinkled. Archie wondered again what he was up to. Was he plotting with the Greaders, or was the beast there to stop them?

  ‘Anyway, there’ll be no bookbinding today,’ Old Zeb said. ‘Find yourself a broom and let’s get this mess cleared up.’

  *

  They spent the rest of the morning picking up bookcases and sorting through the damaged books. Some were beyond repair but most were salvageable. By mid morning a glazier had arrived to repair the window.

  ‘You two run on home now,’ Old Zeb told them. ‘I’ll look after Marjorie.’

  Archie and Bramble were glad to get away. They had things to discuss. They walked home as fast as they could.

  ‘Marjorie said the break-in was just after one in the morning. That means it wasn’t long after Thistle and I were there,’ said Archie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bramble. ‘Let’s hope no one saw you. Bit suspicious that it should be Rusp who came to the rescue.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Archie, thoughtfully. ‘Why was he out so late?’

  ‘Well, we know he was interested in a certain book. It could have been him who grabbed you, and when you told him you didn’t have the book he guessed it was in the bookshop.’

  ‘But why come back and raise the alarm?’ asked Archie.

  ‘Perhaps he thought he’d been seen and doubled back to cover his tracks. There’s something else,’ Bramble added. ‘When I was searching through the debris I found this imagining glass.’